


32nd Batch

by Cyberrat



Series: Fic Batches [32]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, My Time At Portia (Video Game), Overwatch (Video Game), Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alcohol, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bondage, Cock & Ball Torture, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Eggpreg, Farting, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, Other, Piercings, Public Hand Jobs, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slut Shaming, Trans Male Character, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22876168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: ch.1 Albert/Sonia; Gust/Builder | ch.2 Albert/Sonia; Gust/Builder | ch.3 Lúcio/Sigma | ch.4 Torbjörn/Zenyatta | ch.5 McCree/Hanzo/Genji/Reinhardt | ch.6 Lúcio/Baptiste | ch.7 Roadhog/Winston | ch.8 McCree/Hanzo | ch.9 Raihan/Piers | ch.10 Bruce/Jason | ch.11 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.12 Raihan/Piers | ch.13 Torbjörn/Mercy | ch.14 Reaper/Soldier76 | ch.15 Reaper/Lúcio
Relationships: Albert/Sonia (My Time At Portia), Builder/Gust (My Time At Portia), Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Jesse McCree/Genji Shimada/Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, Roadhog | Mako Rutledge/Winston, Sigma | Siebren de Kuiper/Reinhardt Wilhelm, Torbjörn Lindholm/Tekhartha Zenyatta
Series: Fic Batches [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268996
Comments: 6
Kudos: 164





	1. Gust/Builder; Sonia/Albert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albert/Sonia; Gust/Builder – ace nb Builder; dirty talk; handjobs; public – there’s a four-way date and Sonia and Builder have a bet.
> 
> Prequel: B31F13  
> Sequel: B32F2

This is what Django sees from his vantage point behind the counter while doing some faux maneuvers with his sword:

Sonia and her husband sitting across Gust and the Builder, their men caged in by their bodies towards the wall. As Sonia and the Builder have what looks like a very pleasant, animated conversation, Gust and Albert sit quietly, mostly staring at their plates, poking at their food and barely actually putting some in their mouth.

Django watches this disaster for a good ten minutes, before curiosity drives him to make his way over to their table, using lunges with his sword to get there faster.

“My friends!” he starts when he has arrived, arm still busy, sword slicing through the air. Sonia and Builder turn their heads, faces flushed pleasantly from their animated conversation, smiles on their faces.

Gust and Albert just keep staring at their plates, expressions gone weirdly tense as they bend their backs as if they had witnessed a fly upon their food – which shocks Django into momentary stillness, sword lifted high above his head.

“Django…?” Builder asks him during the small lull in motion, their face creased in worry. They let go of their fork and reach out for him – their other hand is beneath the table. “Is everything alright?”

Django finally comes into motion again when neither Gust nor Albert seem to find anything amiss with their food.

“No! Everything is quite alright my dear! Thank you for-” he interrupts himself. He is a man of manners, and he understands that interrupting their dinner date is not something a gentleman could be proud of, so he tries to keep it to the point. “The thing is- I couldn’t help but notice your significant others… their appetites seem rather… lacking today.”

As he stares, the young men’s faces steadily flush a deeper shade of red. Sweat has sprung up along Albert’s hairline. He looks close enough to toppling face first into his mashed potatoes that Django has to halt again in his exercises, worry creasing his face.

Sonia breaks out in a lovely, big smile.

“Oh you were watching us?” she asks, and the boys’ faces make the weirdest things; they drain of color as fast as they had flushed earlier, then start to have hectic splotches on their cheeks. Before Django can comment on it, she continues in a quick, airy prattle: “Don’t you worry none! They’re _fine_. Just had a long day, you know? Builder and I were just saying that we shouldn’t take too long so the poor darlings can crawl into bed as soon as possible. They were just being real good sports for us, you know?”

She keeps smiling, and so does the Builder who has started to lean over a bit, bumping their shoulder in solidarity against Gust’s. It seems to rattle the young man out of whatever exhausted stupor he has fallen into, and he sits up a little straighter, and turns his head to look Django right in the eye.

“We are fine. Thank you for your concern. As they said – merely-”

His voice is so terse, Django gets the hint. He lifts his free hand and shakes his head.

“Exhausted. I understand! I am truly sorry to have interrupted your lovely get-together. I will bring you some deserts momentarily. On the house, of course! Truly sorry. Please. I will leave you to your devices.”

He turns immediately, as a gentleman always goes by his word, and lifts his sword before him before lunging his way back to his place behind the counter.

Sonia and Builder look after him in honest surprise, then glance back at each other before breaking out in soft giggles.

Sonia lets go of her spoon and grabs a napkin to delicately dab at her eyes, trying not to smudge her make-up too badly.

When she looks at Builder again, their face is creased in a big, smug grin.

“What?!” she asks, mouth dropping open, eyes flicking to Gust who looks close to fucking tears. “He didn’t!”

“Oh, he certainly wanted to,” Builder croons. They lift their right hand above the table and spread their fingers, showing off the copious amounts of slick glistening on their palm, and how thick and stretchy the strands were between their fingers. “He almost got one out talking to Django,” they whisper confidentially, leaning over the table so they don’t have to be too loud, what with other customers around them. “Could only just keep him from doing so.”

Sonia’s mouth drops open while the Builder’s hand slides back beneath the table after a quick glance around to make sure nobody had watched.

Underneath, their hand curls easily back around the warm erection they had been working over for the past fifteen minutes.

As Sonia’s eyes snap towards Gust’s humiliated face, her hand twists a bit viciously over Albert’s crown, smearing his pre-cum against her palm, then dragging it down his shaft. She curls her hand around and into the open fly of his pants to take a hold of his testicles which rest warm and humid in her fingers.

Albert has let go of his cutlery and is just holding a tight grip to the edge of the table, apparently holding on for dear life.

“Oh, look at that, Albert!” she says with a whine in her voice, leaning in and putting her head on his shoulder. “He almost came while talking to Django! _That’s_ a well-trained boy, I tell you! You wouldn’t have the guts, right?”

She squeezes his balls gently, then proceeds to idly pluck at the crisp, black hair covering them until tears visibly shoot into Albert’s eyes and the flush crawls back up his neck from beneath his collar.

“I-I-I am sorry, dear,” he somehow manages to get out. All his confidence melted away when he gets jerked off in the middle of a full restaurant, it seems. Sonia rolls her eyes and looks back towards Builder.

“But he has the cuter o-face, I tell you. He gets brick red and starts to almost cry. I just want to pinch his cheeks when he does, I swear to Peach!”

Builder shakes their head immediately, their hand back around Gust’s cock, easily dragging along the shaft and tugging his foreskin over the head again and again. The sound of it opening over the wet crown is loud and smacking; definitely enough to be heard by all around their table, and he presses a hand across his face, hiding his shame. He almost bucks up. The need to grunt fuck Builder’s fist is enough to make him want to scream.

“Gust looks way cuter, I’m sure! He scrunches up his nose all weird and then just lets his tongue flop out… he looks like a puppy!”

Sonia huffs, staring at her perfectly manicured nails on the other hand. She looks bored and not like she is jerking her husband off beneath the table. When she presses her nail into his piss slit and hears a cut-off little grunt, her face lights up. She leans over the table, closer to Builder.

“You ready?!”

Builder’s grin is sharp, their eyes glinting.

“You bet!”

They narrow their eyes at each other, competitive and fierce as their shoulders start bobbing a lot more tellingly, hands jerking their boys off hard and fierce.

Gust and Albert try to hold on by the skin of their teeth, staring at each other in mild panic as they simultaneously realize that this _is happening_.

Still, they come almost simultaneously, backs going ramrod straight as their cocks start spurting thick, slimy loads right into the neatly cupped palms of their significant others.

Builder’s face falls some as they see how tightly Gust holds on to himself, trying so very hard not to show off how cute he is while Albert goes full out. He doesn’t have any restraint in him (which is nothing new), and just like Sonia promised, he looks close to fucking crying.

Sonia’s face splits in a huge, shit-eating grin. Builder huffs.

“That’s no fair! He’s just way too shy!”

“Are you saying you want a revenge, sweetie?”

“That’s what I’m _effing_ saying! We’ll go to mine after this. I want to show you what he’s like when I can _really_ work him over.”


	2. Albert/Sonia; Gust/Builder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albert/Sonia; Gust/Builder – ace nb Builder; cbt; humiliation/embarrassment – They take it to Builder’s home but quickly get derailed...
> 
> Prequel: B32F2  
> Sequel: B33F3

“L-Listen. I’m as uh… confident as the next guy, right? But I don’t know if this is… necessary? I think you’ve played yourselves into a corner here. Is there even a winner? I mean really?”

Albert is trying to argue with them, even as Sonia kneels before him and impatiently starts to work his belt open.

The flush from the restaurant still hasn’t quite left his face. He and Gust had looked dazed the whole evening after pumping their loads into Sonia’s and the Builder’s hands; like they couldn’t believe they actually were made to cum right there in the middle of Django’s restaurant.

Albert, unfortunately, seems to have regained some semblance of bravery and has started arguing with them.

Sonia looks visibly annoyed, rolling her eyes as she finally gets his stupid extravagant belt open and pulls down his fly.

“Listen, Albert. If you want to, you can close your eyes and think of Portia or whatever you need to shut the Hell up, but Builder and I have a deal, and I’m gonna play by the rules, alright?”

“What rules?” Albert asks, voice breaking phenomenally in just that one word. He casts his eyes around for help and gets stuck on Gust who looks absolutely mortified sitting on Builder’s lap.

His face is flushed right to his hairline, one hand pressed against his mouth, eyes big and glassy and staring at the floor.

Similar to Albert, his pants are open, cock already slipped out by Builder’s calm, dexterous fingers.

Albert’s gaze drops and he stares at his friend’s dick. He usually doesn’t make a habit out of looking at cocks – especially ones attached to people he went to school with him – but Gust’s is big and flushed the same shade of shiny red as his cheeks.

“Are you serious?!” Albert squeaks, heart starting to thump. Sonia has pushed her mouth over him; engulfing him wet and warm and silky. His brain hurts – as do his balls. “You just got one off in the restaurant!”

He looks down, and Sonia is staring up at him, brows furrowed. She looks angry… or annoyed. It is quite impressive, to be honest. He’s never seen a porno where the chick could make expressions like that while her mouth is wrapped around a dick.

There’s a weird glint in her eyes. She knows exactly when he thinks of porn. He gulps, hands gripping the sides of his chair.

Sonia pulls off with a pop. She’s all but smeared her beautiful lipstick on Albert’s dick.

“Just go with the program, Albert,” she sighs. “You’ve been badgering me for months now to ‘please just consider the possibilities of a threesome, honey!’” She pitches her voice up ludicrously as she speaks. Now it is his turn to flush and glance over to Gust and Builder, but Gust is not paying much attention.

Builder has their other hand down Gust’s pants and grins like they have the time of their live. Alber has no clear view of what they are doing, but he can see the muscles in their forearm moving, and Gust’s eyes going wide in reaction to that; wide enough to make it look like his eyes are about to pop out of his skull.

Sonia has turned her head as well and looks more than intrigued. She lets go of Albert to wander her way over; nonchalant like this whole arrangement is normal. Like those two betting over which man has the more… more… _handsome_ o-face (or whatever) is a thing normal people do.

He’s never even _imagined_ , Sonia would be like this when he proposed to her. It would have been way hotter if she were this interested in playing with other girls, in his opinion…

Though… he has to admit… watching her help Builder to pull down poor Gust’s pants and expose him to the room… her face flushed with excited pleasure as she squats down in front of them to see what is happening… 

It’s kind of hot as well. Kind of really hot.

Albert grabs his dick, slowly squeezing the tip as he watches the proceedings.

“I squeeze his balls, you see? Like… this.” The words float over to him like on a cloud. His brain has trouble comprehending them properly until he sees Gust’s head fall back, almost conking Builder in their face, and a high-pitched little noise coming from him.

Wait… they… squeeze his balls?

He can’t see with Sonia in the way, but he can hear how breathy and excited her voice is getting.

“Oh my… doesn’t that hurt?”

“It does!” Builder sounds so excited. They crane their head to look over Gust’s shoulder and do something else that has Gust softy cry out, splotches of color on his high cheekbones. 

His eyes are glassy; like he is about to cry any second now.

“Come on, I’ll show you more! He really likes this shit!”

Sonia is all for it. Albert has the feeling his wife has forgotten all about his presence at this point, but watching the two of them usher Gust up from Builder’s lap and towards a table to bend over, he feels like he should be thankful for her ignorance.

The way the two of them are hyped up on _good vibes_ , he feels like Builder might just start a workshop to teach Sonia all about… all about making it _hurt_ down there. Albert feels faint at the mere suggestion.

They must have forgotten about their weird little competition. Now, Sonia is all about seeing whatever devious shit Builder is getting up to with poor Gust.

“So. I have him spread his legs, you see? It helps bringing him a bit more down to my level because he’s got this long pretty legs. And it also gets everything nice and in suspension.”

Albert can’t help himself. He leans over in his chair, palm dragging across his crown. The sensation of jerking off prickles through his whole body; familiar and hot. Sonia’s avid interest in the whole thing is also really… really good. Shit, she looks so hot when she’s focused on something like this; and her dress is skin-tight and showing off all her curves-

“I started with slapping them. He really likes the pain of it. And I like the way it looks, you know? When his balls swing like a punching bag. But I started kneeing him just a few days ago. It gives more of a… dull pain, you know? Like if you got punched in the cheek instead of slapped? Something like that…”

Builder is prattling on, happy and carefree. Albert still thinks it’s super weird that they don’t get _off_ on any of the stuff, but he doesn’t have to deal with it so he doesn’t really care. What he cares about is how latently aroused _Sonia_ looks.

Builder grabs on to Gust’s hips and says something about ‘using the top of their knee, not the point’ and then jerks their leg up sudden and sharp. Albert almost cries out in sympathy, strangling his cock, body hot and tight and shocked.

When the static in his ears recedes he can hear Gust choking himself through an orgasm. Builder has slowly stepped away after making sure Gust wasn’t going to fold in on himself like a pocket knife, and then Sonia and Builder just stand there and watch him hold his aching balls with both hands, sobbing and moaning and gurgling against the table top while spurts of cum hit the floor; like his testicles have forgotten how to pump his cream out now that they are hurting and probably feel like they’ve swollen to the size of balloons.

“I want to do another competition,” he hears Sonia through the static in his ears, arm moving despite himself, stripping his dick fast and hard because when in doubt, Albert can still fucking jerk it. “But I want to know more about this first. This is _hot_!”

Builder beams at her.


	3. Lúcio/Sigma (+Reinhardt/Sigma)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Sigma (+ Reinhardt/Sigma) – streaming AU; dom Lúcio/Reinhardt; sub!Sigma; insecurity; teaching – Akande got a big streaming business with lots of subs and doms that regularly do streams that are both educational and porny. Tonight, Reinhardt has given his own submissive, Sigma, over to Lúcio to let him train with him.

Sigma is developing a cold sweat the longer Lúcio and Reinhardt are talking about his _problems_ , his big blue eyes flicking from one to the other. He is kneeling for Lúcio right now, but it is easy to tell that he really, really, _really_ wants to crawl to his Dom and hide behind his legs.

Maybe be gentled down and cared for as if he’s had a subdrop.

He’s an easy boy to love. Very sensitive. Lúcio can understand that Reinhardt more often than not lets himself get lulled into giving Sigma whatever he wants – his boy is not doing this to be a brat, but because he is insecure.

“You need to be more firm,” Lúcio sighs eventually and glances at the time. They have to be live in just a minute.

Reinhardt nods with a chagrined expression. Lúcio turns towards Sigma, and gently cups his chin in his hand.

“Are you still comfortable with the pillow?”

Sigma nods. He’s put speaking as a hard limit with anybody that is not Reinhardt, and Lúcio is willing to indulge him for now. Maybe it’ll change once they get him used to showing off on camera.

Sigma’s big eyes flick towards the laptop. The chat is already scrolling fast. He then looks towards the camera and becomes noticeably more pale.

Lúcio hums and gently squeezes his jaw once more before he reaches out and pushes the button.

He waits a few seconds for the stream to establish itself, looking directly into the camera and blinking a few times. When he’s suitably sure everything is fine, he begins his stream.

“Hey there! I hope you all had a good time since last week. Roadhog is now safely back with D.Va, but I think it’s been good to change things up a bit for once. Sometimes you just find yourself trodding the same tracks and then you’ll need a bit of help getting out, right? Especially if you want to try something new.”

He has to laugh a bit here because Sigma is a big boy but he is trying is goddamn hardest right now to crawl into Lúcio’s lap or press his face beneath his arm (or preferably both). He grabs him by the back of his collar and pulls him away with a bit of gusto, choking him slightly in the process.

“So uh… haha yeah. We have another guest today. I’ve seen a lot of you have noticed that he’s very cute.” There are other, meaner comments too of course but he doesn’t think that Sigma needs any of that particular energy right now. He pulls him a bit farther away still to show him off to the camera, though there is only so much he can do with the simple collar.

Reinhardt is standing quietly behind him, not making a single noise. He knows how these streams go; and he knows Lúcio’s style.

“Haha right. Heh. He’s super shy. As you can see. Those that were here last week will probably be able to tell that he has a completely different energy than Roadhog had, yes? They’re both exceptionally big boys, but they need wildly different things. Roadhog is a very calm submissive. Relaxed. _Too_ relaxed, maybe. We’ve had to annoy him and push him far out of his comfort zone to get him to make a few sounds for us.

Now… I just want to reiterate that there’s nothing wrong with being a quiet sub, alright? ‘S all fine! Some Doms have no problem with that, but you know… change is nice every once in a while. Getting them out of their comfort zone. Toeing the line of their soft limits and making them do shit they are not used to. So afterwards they can get all the praise for it.

This one here…” and here he finally takes a huge breath and gently pats his free hand against Sigma’s wide chest, “...his name’s Sigma. He’s been Reinhardt’s sub for a while now, actually, but he’s not on stream much. We want to start working on his general flighty attitude today. I hope you’ve read the stream title, but for those who haven’t: We’re working with a bit of bondage today. No major harnesses; just a head rig, essentially, but… you gotta be especially careful with those. Because you can’t rip your submissive’s head around as you please; you have to be very careful.”

He can see a few starting to get annoyed that he hasn’t even started yet. He reaches for the harness on the table. They had prior to the stream already adjusted every strap to nicely fit Siebren.

He lifts it and starts to show it off to the camera while Sigma twists away again, trying to hide without outright crawling off his pillow unprompted.

“Where Roadhog has been fundamentally calm and centered, Sigma is very nervous and shy. He’s also easily distracted. So… today we want to make sure he only pays attention to us, right? And to get him to show you all his beautiful big eyes.”

When Lúcio has thoroughly showed off all the straps, he begins to gently fit the device around Siebren’s head. It is really just a bridle for a human. Siebren’s big eyes flick to Reinhardt when Lúcio patiently pushes the ball gag against his lips. Lúcio doesn’t know what Reinhardt is doing – if he is doing anything at all – but Siebren opens his mouth and lets Lúcio pop the gag in.

“Show yourself,” Lúcio orders, and Sigma turns himself with obvious reluctance towards the camera. His pale body has flushed a piggy pink all over. His face is shining with nervous sweat. When Lúcio puts his hand on Sigma’s chest, he coos.

“Oh, he’s so nervous… His heart is beating a mile a minute.” He briefly glances at the chat, then back at Sigma. “They love you. They say you’re a very cute boy.”

Sigma looks close to tears despite the compliment. Lúcio curls the short reins around his hand gently and pulls his head around until he is profusely blinking in the light of one of their set lamps.

“For tonight you’ll get all the help you deserve,” he tells him gently, free hand brushing across his short, grey hair. “We’ll want to work you up to do this without this little contraption, but that’s a lot to ask for now, huh?”

Sigma is shaking like a horse about to be put down, and Lúcio sighs and lets the reins fall so the big submissive can hide himself away again in his lap. He slowly brushes his hands along his back.

“Every person goes at their own speed,” he says after a few moments towards the camera again. He squints at the chat while he gathers his thoughts. “Uh… no, sorry. There’ll be no sex tonight at this rate. You’re free to leave at any time, bro.” It’s difficult sometimes to both deal with a frightened submissive and a fucking dumbass in chat, but that’s the shit they all signed up for when Akande gave them their contracts.

“Submissives are no machines, just like Doms. Pushing them to their limits can be nice and rewarding, but you have to be sensitive to their needs. As you can see, Sigma is still uncomfortable. In the _not_ fun way. So we’ll change plans for right now and do some Q and A and try again in half an hour, alright? Nice.”


	4. Torbjörn/Zenyatta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zenyatta/Torbjörn – wire play; slut shaming – Torbjörn conducts Zenyatta’s yearly inspection. Zenyatta is a whore.

“Yearly inspection, eh?”

Zenyatta sits primly on the workbench, his hands folded in his lap. He confirms with a soft hum, and a gently modulated “Indeed.”

Torbjörn clicks his tongue and ignores him for a few minutes just to drive the point home that he is the one in charge. If Zenyatta minds having to wait any, he does not show it.

“Your work is extraordinary. I am grateful that you take your time for me,” he eventually says when Torbjörn turns towards him and grunts at him to get down and turn around. Zenyatta moves without hitch and complaint. He is as amenable to any of this as can be.

Torbjörn wants to be annoyed, but it is difficult to focus on it when he sees all of Zenyatta’s open wiring at his back.

“Horrible… Who designed it like this, that’s just asking for trouble,” he grunts, thick fingers lightly dragging across a little cluster of cables and carefully tucking it back into Zenyatta’s chassis to see how it’ll fit there.

Zenyatta’s spinal cord straightens a little at that; as if he’s surprised by the touch.

“N-nobody designed it,” he says, and Torbjörn pauses at the small glitch in the usually well-modulated voice. “I deemed it appropriate for my n-needs. I enjoy the freedom.”

Torbjörn’s eye twitches. His thick fingers reach back into Zenyatta’s chassis where he had tucked away that little clump of cables, and lightly rubs them between his thick fingers, trying to figure out where they even lead to.

Zenyatta almost _bucks_ , his voicebox glitching and making a bird-like little chirping sound. Torbjörn doesn’t say anything, brain working overtime as he takes in the minute trembling of Zenyatta’s frame and how he is gripping the workbench so hard, he is beginning to dent the metal.

Torbjörn has opted to change his combat arm for a more practical one, and the metal fingers curl around Zenyatta’s hip to try and keep him steady as he _accidentally_ bumps into some more wires with his thick knuckles.

Zenyatta’s reaction is immediate, little valves opening inside his chassis and letting out thin streams of steam.

“Ye’re a regular harlot, aren’t’cha?” Torbjörn says slowly, unsure whether he is fascinated or disgusted. “Runnin’ around with yer wires hangin’ out like that… gettin’ hot and bothered from a bit o’ fondlin’...”

Zenyatta makes a sound as if his breath hitches. His body is radiating heat, and Torbjörn’s workbench groans with the strain of having the Omnic’s fingers dig into the surface.

“I merely… live an… alternative lifestyle,” he says serenely, the merest tremble in his voice. Torbjörn can’t help but be impressed by the range of emotions the voicebox is able to display.

“Alternative lifestyle as a _whore_?” he grunts and tugs a tad harder on one delicate little wire.

Zenyatta cries out, head thrown back. While he still seems to be gathering his wits about himself, Torbjörn is busy grabbing his shoddy pants and roughly pulling them down his skinny metal legs.

There’s a nice synthetic pussy, the teal lips swollen with eagerness. As his metal hand creeps over and prods at them carefully, he can hear the soft hiss and release of another panel close by; probably the damn Omnic’s cock extending.

Disgusting. Preposterous.

Torbjörn reaches deeper into Zenyatta’s chassis, taking a rude hand full of his dainty little cables and squeezing them in his fist until he can feel how a couple of them are on the very verge of popping out of their sockets.

Zenyatta’s voicebox is sounding like a whole damn bird park, his frame shuddering and painfully still on the spot.

Torbjörn slowly lets go of them again and reaches for his beard. He smears a bit of Zenyatta’s lubricant into it as he roughly divides it into two thick strands and tucks them over his shoulders so they are out of the way for him to dive face first between the Omnic’s thighs to… ah… inspect his little pussy.

“Gotta come back tomorrow. There are a lot of loose wires,” he grunts.


	5. McCree/Hanzo/Genji

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo/Genji – supernatural; thoughts of rape; little bit horror; it’s all in Jesse’s head; [weird jewelry](https://i.imgur.com/03iQycN.jpg) (picture prompt) – Jesse got caught and the Shimada have dragons to sate.

The ceremony isn’t too long. Jesse can taste the anxiety in the air all around him; he can tell that despite all those guards and Elders putting up tough fronts, they want all of this done and over with as fast as possible.

The brothers are bound down, fixated as much as possible by chains. There are blindfolds across their eyes, and their heads swing left and right in unison. The sight has the hair on Jesse’s body stand on end. They are creepy motherfuckers alright.

He doesn’t know if this is meant as some kind of punishment or boon. He doesn’t speak a word Japanese, and they had taken the translation piece out of his ear before he had even realized what was happening.

The brothers have to cower on their knees with all the heavy chains holding them down, but Jesse still hadn’t been able to help noticing all that naked skin on display.

It seemed very obvious what he was supposed to be doing, but it still takes him off guard when the whole room quickly empties itself out and the last poor asshole has to open the chains that keep the brothers secured.

They rattle with how hard the guard’s hands are shaking, but he is out before any of the brothers could have wormed his way out of the heavy iron.

They move like goddamn snakes. It is unnatural to watch. Jesse whole body clenches, and the thought of letting them mount him is making cold sweat spring up along his hairline. Once again, he tries to pull his arms out of the bindings behind him, but they are just as sturdy as the chains that had held the brothers down.

They don’t even bother with taking off the blindfolds; they just come crawling over the floor, faces turned in his direction, mouths hanging open and showing off rows of sharp teeth.

His heart starts pounding fast. This is straight out of some kind of horror movie, and he can’t make himself look away. The thought of letting these beasts mount up is making him nauseous.

When they’ve come close enough, they suddenly stop and sit back on their haunches, their bodies moving again in sinewy, snake-like motions, heads tilted back as if they were trying to taste the air.

Like this, he can see their bodies beautifully. They’re close enough that he could have touched them had his arms not been bound.

They certainly look human enough like this. There’s not a single blemish on their skin. When his gaze falls down to between their muscular thighs, he almost barks a laugh at the single piece of jewelry they’re wearing: each adorned with a metal cage cast in the shape of a dragon.

It sure looks impressive enough, with their erections filling the dragons’ bellies; veins bulging where the warm flesh is being constricted by the metal.

The reality of it is, though, that Jesse can feel bile rising at the back of his throat imagining them trying to fuck him with those contraptions on. They’ll rip him apart. Gabe would come to his rescue and see him lying there, bled out from his perforated rectum.

They’re on him in a flash. Their hands grab his arms, and they knock shoulders. They bare their teeth at each other, hissing, some kind of energy wafting off of them with crackling jolts of electricity.

The younger has to back down.

Jesse has no idea what the fuck is going on. He feels like his heart is going to explode. He waits for them to try and turn him around, but instead the older one sits down in his lap, his cock and the metal cage surrounding it dragging against Jesse’s belly.

They’re still blindfolded but find their way around a cock like absolute pros.

He goes slack as if his strings had been cut when he realizes that he’s not the one being mounted… at least not the way he thinks.

“Oh fucking… oh _hell_... shit we can do that all night long, baby,” he babbles, voice gone high-pitched and brittle. He’s almost crying in elation.


	6. Lúcio/Baptiste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Baptiste – suspension bondage; Lúcio in a tiny thong; dirty talk; slut shaming; all consensual – Baptiste is perfect son-in-law material for 90% of the time.
> 
> Prequel: B31F7

“And you’re really alright with this?”

Baptiste squats down in front of Lúcio so they’re face to face.

“I can be kind of intense when I get into the swing of things. But if you say stop, I will…”

Lúcio is looking at him like he’s grown a second head; surprised, but apparently in the best kind of way because his mouth splits into a huge grin. He wriggles in his bonds and huffs when he can’t make himself move in any which way.

“Dang… Jack’s too good in this,” he mutters, then squints at Baptiste. “Come here and give me a kiss and then we’ll get started, alright?”

Baptiste follows along, chest feeling full to bursting. The thought of cameras around them potentially filming the whole thing has him pull back before Lúcio can successfully give him a coquettish slip of his little candy pink tongue.

“Are there really no cameras?” Baptiste asks softly, and Lúcio’s smile goes a bit soft and gentle.

“There really aren’t.”

Baptiste exhales relieved and he gently pushes his knuckles against Lúcio’s cheek before he stands and stretches. He rolls his head along his shoulders and loosens his limbs as he gets himself into a headspace.

The fact that he is close enough for Lúcio to lovingly mouth at his cock is definitely helping. He glances down, staring at how the young man is craning his neck, and trying his utmost to not rock himself out of reach of the treat.

“Damn… you’re so greedy for this, aren’t you?” he murmurs, fingers gently brushing along the cornrows before he can gently cup Lúcio’s head and keep him nice and close to his cock, allowing him to suckle the fat tip right into that hot little space.

Baptiste rocks his hips forward and Lúcio obediently flattens his tongue and tries to look up at him, eyes dark and big and full of promise.

“You take it like a champ… never thought you’d be such an old hand at sucking dick,” Baptiste murmurs. “You takin’ your little fans backstage?”

He pulls out, the first few inches of his dick nice and wet with spit. He holds it in his hand like an offering, the other pulling Lúcio close who is still blinking at him slowly, seemingly reeling at the sudden shift in Baptiste’s attitude.

At the very least he does not deny picking out a few avid little worshippers to take back for a ride. Interesting.

“Get it nice and wet,” Baptiste tells him softly. “You’ve prepared yourself, haven’t you?”

Lúcio has barely nodded when Baptiste already continues, an easy grin on his face: “Of course you have. Probably even in my own bathroom, huh? You probably put a foot on my fucking toilet seat and fucked you on some toys you brought with you. Didya put them in a nice little baggie and pushed them into 76’s arms? Haha you’re so fucking nasty.”

Lúcio is drooling like a whore, his face slack and reverend as he tries his best to both get Baptiste’s cock wet and also listen to every word he’s saying.

“He’s probably mouthing them as we speak and jerking off knowing they spread you open.”

He slowly pulls back. Before he rounds Lúcio, he gently palms his cheek, feeling how burning hot it is against his skin. Oh yeah… he’s definitely into this. He just doesn’t seem to know quite how to place it yet.

“So… tell me about your fans,” Baptiste says conversationally; like his heart isn’t trying to beat out of his chest, and his hands aren’t slightly shaking when he gets to Lúcio’s back and stands between his frog-tied legs, staring at the sight of his bubble ass and the tiny thong they put on him. He drags a hand across his mouth, just standing and staring while his mouth runs away with him. “Do you fuck them? Or do they get to fuck you? Let me tell you, I would’ve given you the ride of your life. I’ve been to a couple of your concerts but never had the balls to make you notice me, you know? But shit I’ve gone home with the fattest boner every goddamn time. Fucked my fleshlight thinking about that tight little snatch of yours…”

He has palmed one of Lúcio’s cheeks to the side and is pressing his thumb against said little hole. It is wet to the touch and plump; kissing against the digit eagerly. Butter soft and eager to spread for him as he experimentally pushes and realizes that Lúcio really is just a needy whore for him.

“Holy shit…” There’s nothing fake about Baptiste’s amazement over Lúcio’s… everything. His whole being feels on fire. His cock is throbbing in time with his heartbeat; fast and excited.

He bites his lip as he shuffles closer and lifts his cock to nose against the plump muscle because the idiot is too excited and wouldn’t be able to find it on his own.

Lúcio is making a… noise; something without words or coherence; just a low whine that stretches out indefinitely; like he needs to make that sound or will explode.

“Are you used to cocks like that by your fans? I don’t think so,” Baptiste croons at him, hips shifting and pushing; stuffing him slowly fuller of cock. Lúcio’s sound hitches up a few octaves and he shakes his head. Baptiste can see him mindlessly working his hands and feet; just tensing and relaxing his muscles slowly and without haste.

He is _enjoying_ himself.

“There you go… little sluts like you can’t relax without a nice fat cock splitting them open, right?” Baptiste’s chest feels like it is going to explode with how fast his heart is beating. Lúcio nods along. He’s in for the long haul. He doesn’t seem horrified by what is coming out of Baptiste’s mouth; just confused and really, really into it.

He keeps turning his head, trying to peek behind him when he feels himself slowly and deliciously spreading around the intrusion. Eventually he gives up and lets his head hang low.

He takes Baptiste like a champ, and all Baptiste can do in turn is stare down at the sight of his bubble ass in that tiny thong. The thin strips of fabric look absolutely obscene.

When Baptiste has pushed almost all the way in, he reaches around him and palms his cock, feeling how far the elastic little thing has stretched to accommodate the package. It’s wet against his palm, the fabric completely soaked through with Lúcio’s excitement.

“Never had one that could take it this well,” Baptiste rasps. He pulls back and can see from the glisten on his cock exactly how deep Lúcio’s body had swallowed him up. “I bet whatever little squad has strung you up in here has gotten a good few gropes in as well, huh? Can’t believe they wouldn’t if you show yourself off like this in this slutty little number.”

He pinches one little strap of fabric between his fingers and lets it snap against Lúcio’s hip. He can feel his reaction on his cock; his insides jump and clench on him and make the static in his ears pop violently. He feels like he is going cross-eyed, and Lúcio is just a good sport and takes it all.

Baptiste fucks him like a man possessed, babbling nonsense in between whenever he has enough air to do so which becomes increasingly more rare.

Overwatch plays _fucking_ dirty, but if he can get this every night of the week, he doesn’t even need to think about his decision anymore.


	7. Roadhog/Winston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadhog/Winston (+ Winston/76) – coercion; rape tw; non-con tw; dirty talk; slut shaming – Jack is gone on a mission and left Roadhog to take care of his pet slut.
> 
> Prequel: B14F10

Roadhog slams Winston against the wall, thick arm across his throat. He lifts his other arm while Winston is choking and struggling and clawing at him, showing him a video playing on mute on his phone, the little device pinched between two meaty fingers.

When Winston sees himself in the video as he bends over and spreads his cheeks with two trembling hands for the camera, he goes instantly slack.

“Oh… oh my,” he whispers, horrified.

Roadhog slowly takes his arm off his throat and instead grabs a handful of the scientist’s thick hair.

“Got a nice little present,” Roadhog grunts as he twists Winston’s head until the hirsute man is wincing and has to follow suit if he doesn’t want to get his neck snapped. “Soldier doesn’t want ya to get unused. You got a nice cunt.”

He shoves hard and Winston stumbles until he knocks hard into a table, the equipment on top of it rattling precariously. At least there have been no delicate experiments on it.

“Show it to me. Or I’ll show the rest of the base.”

It’s not difficult to discern _what_ he’ll show the rest of the base. When Winston just stands there, reeling, mind racing with a million thoughts, Roadhog pushes against the screen of his phone, and the sound pops back on.

Winston’s whimpers and begging float through the room.

Roadhog puts the phone onto the table next to Winston, then steps up very close behind him. Winston is a large man, but next to Mako he feels _tiny_. Insignificant. Helpless to defend himself against the fat fingers roughly tugging on his clothes.

“He showed me a few good videos,” Roadhog rasps behind him; he’s always wheezing just a little bit. “Showed me what a nasty whore you are, doc. Lean forward. Spread your cheeks.”

Winston, shellshocked as he’d thought himself safe for just a few days while Jack was away on a mission, simply does as he is being told. He spreads his cheeks after Roadhog rips his pants down; he turns and hooks hands beneath his gut, lifting it out of the way to properly show his fat cock nestled in the thick bush of pubes; he even shows off his tits when prompted to – until Roadhog is satisfied.

“Never had a bitch as hairy as you.” Mako’s small, dark eyes are boring into Winston until he looks away. He is easily cowed.

“Beg for my cock,” Mako grunts at him as he opens his own low riding pants. The scientist is sturdy and can take a few open palmed hits as Morrison told him, and when Winston doesn’t react fast enough he does just that; slaps him and pushes him back against the table once more, then slaps him again and pinches one fat, delicious nipple.

Winston is visibly shocked, tears springing into his dark eyes, a bruise blooming quick and dark red on his abused cheek – but it is the pinch to his teat that has him howl and jerk his arms up, trying to defend himself.

“Beg for my cock, bitch,” Mako growls at him. It takes so little to get him to obey. He is timid and eager to please, and the sound of his own pathetic begging from the video is enough to get him going.

Once he starts, it is impossible to stop him. There is a constant stream of begging and sobs and hitched breaths as Roadhog turns him around again and rudely fucks his cunt open on lube wet fingers.

He pulls on the dark hair liberally coating his ass crack whenever he needs a reminder of who is in charge, and Winston sounds close enough to tears that Roadhog feels like he’s dangerously close to shooting off even before he’s force fucked his way into that warm little snatch.

The scientist is used to cock by now – but not a cock like Mako’s. The video has long since stopped playing, but the air is filled with a whole new kind of whining and begging. Winston has leaned over, big belly squishing against the surface of the table, hands scrabbling and trying to find purchase so he can hold on for dear life as his hole gets spread on Mako’s massive dick.

“Take it, whore,” he grunts, eyes heavy lidded and chest on fire. He has his gut resting on Winston’s back. He can’t see what he’s doing, but his cock doesn’t need a fucking map to know where to crawl into and start mayhem.

He can fuck Winston like a bitch, and all that’s being destroyed are a few petri dishes that have continually crawled their way to the edge of the table before tumbling down to the floor.

In a few distorted reflections, Roadhog can see huge tears dripping into Winston’s beard, but when he grunts and leans over to reach around his hip, the good doctor’s cock is leaping into his palm, hard and hot and wet with pre-cum dripping just as copiously as his tears.

“You like to pretend like you hate it,” Mako wheezes, watching Winston’s face in the steel reflection of an apparatus while he rocks forward, “But you secretly love it. You’re a nasty slut that gets off on being forced. You _like_ it.”

Winston is flushing harder. He is shaking his head, flustered by the insinuation; even tries to push his foggy glasses back up his nose… but Mako is not an idiot. He can see the signs. He can see how much Winston both hates and craves the treatment.

How he probably will go and cry into his pillow and then jerk off desperately to the memory of being forced to take Hog’s meaty dick.

It’s not the first time Mako has had a slut like him.

“Take it,” he grunts mercilessly. He can’t do a lot of showy fucking, but with his girth he doesn’t need to; the soft grinding motions of his hips are enough to make his partners feel overwhelmed and nervous. “Gonna tell your daddy what a good bitch you are… How well trained…”

Winston shakes his head in denial, but his insides clench down nice and warm, keeping him cushioned and welcome.


	8. McCree/Hanzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree/Hanzo – negotiations; mentions of subdrop/domdrop – McCree gets his shit together while Hanzo stays forever in denial.
> 
> Prequel: B31F9  
> Sequel: B33F7

Hanzo has never had much time to just lounge and watch TV, and he finds that he does not particularly enjoy the pastime. It’s dreary and beneath his standing. He can feel himself getting dumber by every second he tries desperately to find something with just a little bit of class.

When his communicator buzzes he just glances over, then jolts upright when he sees that the message is from McCree.

His throat goes stupidly tight immediately. It’s been a couple weeks now without any contact to McCree and he’s spent more time than he likes to admit talking himself out of contacting him.

He reaches over, belly aching as he opens the message.

[Alright. Let’s talk]

Hanzo slowly folds his legs beneath himself until he is kneeling on his bed. He stares at the message, brows furrowed, trying to figure out whether this is a good sign or a bad sign. His fingers are hovering, brain jumbling around the question as to where McCree wants to meet when another message arrives.

[I got a few questions. You ever had a sub?]

Hanzo squints at the screen. He slowly lets go with one hand, rubs it over his thigh, then repeats the motion with the other hand. In his head, he can hear McCree’s deep, syrupy voice drawl the sentences, automatically slurring the ending of some words into a mess that had infuriated Hanzo immensely just half a year ago. By now he finds it comforting.

(Most people I bed are submissive towards me. I am not interested in anything else.)

[So you identify yourself as a Dom?]

(You are hinting at the BDSM lifestyle. I have not spent much thought on it.)

There’s almost five minutes of no answer in which Hanzo starts to feel progressively more… anxious. He is just searching up some BDSM sites, unsure where McCree is going with this line of questioning, when another message pops up at the top of his communicator and he clicks it before he consciously reads the preview.

[You’re a stupid piece of shit but I guess I got that coming. Could’ve asked, I suppose.]

Hanzo is almost distracted from the sudden, fierce flare of anger by how precise McCree’s diction is in writing. His nostrils flare and he tries to keep his temper in check, but he has to correct his spelling a few times because his thumbs move jerkily across the small, glowing keyboard.

(I can’t follow you. I don’t see the problematic. You are into the lifestyle, and I do not mind.)

[Shimada]

There’s a minute of pause where nothing happens, like McCree has to fight with himself or something. Hanzo quietly waits, slightly curled forward, staring at the screen until finally the next message pops up.

[You can’t just play with someone like this, whether I’m in the scene or not, and just fly by the seat of your pants]

He frowns, fingers drumming against the back of his communicator. It’s not a good idea to use it for this conversation, but the texts are better encrypted than if they used their phones.

(I’ve always played like this. Nobody ever complained.)

[Because you’ve always had one-night stands or some shit.]

[Damn, this is getting complicated.]

[Come to the roof. Bring coffee.]

Hanzo squints at the few lines. He hesitates but stands eventually, feeling like he had to… make something up to McCree for some reason, so he quietly follows the instructions along.

As McCree had said, he is on the rooftop; the lazy line of smoke crawling up from behind a structure giving him away. When Hanzo rounds it, he is sitting on a low stool he must have dragged up there, communicator still precariously balanced on his knee. He tugs it away when he sees Hanzo, and takes the coffee mug with a grunt of thanks.

As he takes a sip, his dark eyes stare at Hanzo in a way that Hanzo is not used to from this man. There’s something sharp in that gaze; not at all like the easy going drunk McCree usually likes to show people.

Hanzo crosses his arms in front of his chest, leans with his ass against the structure McCree has used as a protection from the wind, and looks to the side. When McCree starts speaking, he does not look at him.

“Alright, listen to me.” He shifts a little, and Hanzo can see from the corner of his eyes how he pulls his long legs from the low wall he had them propped on and sits forward, elbows on his spread knees. He, too, isn’t looking at Hanzo; at least this whole thing seems to be as uncomfortable for him as it is for Hanzo.

“I don’t care what you’ve done with other people before me. I don’t care whether they enjoyed it or not or whether they told you or not. I like the way you do this shit, which is why I wanted t’ play more often. I’ve never really had a steady Dom, so I never really realized that I-”

He pauses for a moment, staring at his hands that he has clasped tightly between his knees. Hanzo realizes that he has turned his head at some point and is now directly staring at Jesse after all; watching how the tall man has folded himself up so neatly while he tries to figure out how to say what he has to say.

“I enjoy how strict you are, an’ how you handle me, but… apparently I can’t deal with it on a regular basis. Gettin’ continuously told what a failure I am isn’t good for me in the long run.”

Hanzo tries to ignore how that makes his chest ache, or how difficult it becomes to breathe. He swallows hard.

“So you just want to break it off. You could have said that sooner. It would have spared me the trouble of… all of this,” he says with disdain, and McCree lifts his head to stare at him before he unfolds himself to stand at his towering height, suddenly close enough that Hanzo can smell him.

“No, you idiot! I just mean t’ say that I need ya to fuckin’ _learn_ this whole shit an’ start with some fuckin’ aftercare!”

Hanzo tries not to recoil, but he can feel himself pulling back from McCree even so, biting the tip of his tongue so he won’t just bark out whatever hateful thing he can think of first.

“I don’t-”

“Understand? Damn, you’re dense sometimes.”

McCree pulls his hat off and drags his hand through his messy hair. He pins Hanzo to the spot with a stare that goes right through Hanzo like an electric current.

“I want you to _learn_ , and become _better_ , because I wanna play more, but this past month or so has been shit, an’ I don’t wanna have any of that anymore.”

Hanzo bristles at the insinuation that he is not the best at everything he does, and he can see in the twitch of McCree’s sensual wide mouth that he knew exactly he’d have him by the balls if he said that.

“I got some literature for ya. Grab the coffee and come to my rooms.”


	9. Raihan/Piers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raihan/Piers – piercings; alcohol; netflix and chill – Raihan tries to keep cool but he’s anything but.
> 
> Prequel: B30F7  
> Sequel: B33F8

Raihan likes to think of himself as not being weird about sex stuff, but he finds that he can’t help but stare at Piers sidelong every now and then.

He’s invited him to Hammerlocke – more specifically his high-end yet dirty apartment in Hammerlocke – and Piers, fascinatingly enough, has come over.

The room is dark except for the flickering lights of the telly, and they’re both nice and buzzed by a few beers and a couple sweet drinks from cans that Raihan had completely forgotten about even having.

Piers smells nice of some kind of aftershave. Raihan thinks he might have always used that brand, but it’s only now really occurring to him. Now that he knows what Piers looks like when he deep throats a cock.

Now that he knows what he _feels_ like while deep throating a cock. How his thin neck expands for the extra bulge of it and clings to a cock like hot, wet silk.

Raihan starts to drift closer; then Piers turns his head and asks something, and the little warm bubble around Raihan deflates. He blinks at him owlishly, and Piers’ brows lift in a lazily curious way. He didn’t startle at Raihan’s sudden closeness, nor does he pull away now.

Piers is an eternal enigma to Raihan. He always seems so solemn and skittish, but when it comes down to it, the guy is one of the calmest people Raihan has ever met. He’s slow to the point of being infuriating, almost.

His stage persona is a whole different beast altogether.

“What’s up?” Piers asks when Raihan just stares at him stupidly. The bubble might’ve been burst (Raihan is not sure what he would have done anyway if Piers hadn’t turned towards him) but there’s still the nice, warm buzz of the alcohol softening everything up around the edges.

He doesn’t pull back either; just stares at Piers up close. His eyes look bruised like always.

“I…” _had you suck my dick like a hooker and it was the best head I’ve ever had and you don’t even know it._

Raihan blinks slowly. “...am kinda drunk from just those few beers.”

Piers’ face settles into an easy smile. He reaches out and pets over Raihan’s hair like he probably would do to Marnie.

“I feel you,” he murmurs, and turns away to the telly again, just lazily staring at the pictures. The spiky ring pendant dangling from his collar draws Raihan’s gaze for a moment. Shit… Piers definitely _doesn’t_ feel him. Not in the way Raihan wants him to feel him.

He keeps staring, body growing hotter by the moment, cock slowly filling in the loose shorts he’s wearing. He’s getting an erection just smelling Piers and being in his goddamn vicinity.

Raihan digs his sharp canines into his tongue, trying to make himself snap out of it, but his cock is on board and the rest of his body follows like the goddamn traitor that it is.

Raihan reaches out and gently tugs at one side of the loose little shirt that Piers has donned. It slips easily over his bony shoulder, exposing it and the shockingly thin looking jut of his collarbone.

If Piers is surprised by the development, he doesn’t show it. He turns his head back towards Raihan and smiles at him slowly. He doesn’t even ask what this is supposed to be; he’s no idiot. Maybe Raihan looks like he needs a dicking. Or maybe he can smell his erection.

Raihan holds Piers’ heavy lidded gaze as he leans forward and plants his mouth on the point of his shoulder. He opens his lips and starts to slowly suck. Piers exhales in a soft little puff and sinks deeper into the couch they’re on.

Raihan moves closer, mouthing wet along Piers’ shoulder and to his collarbone. He tests one sharp canine against the paper thin skin, but nowhere near hard enough to make it hurt.

Piers hums. He leans forward out of Raihan’s reach. For a second it looks like he will get up, but then he just grabs his bottle of beer and leans back into Raihan’s space, watching him with that sultry I-never-sleep gaze while taking a swig.

Raihan’s mouth goes dry. He’s used to people trying to vie for his attention, so suddenly being on the other end of the exchange throws him for a loop. Piers slowly looks down his body, then starts to grin around the mouth of the bottle.

He pulls it away, then looks back at Raihan’s face. He must look like a rabbit caught in the headlights because Piers holds his gaze while slowly, leisurely reaching over and cupping Raihan’s erection through his shorts.

“Does drinking get you horny?” he asks casually, his thin, long fingers pinching the fabric around the cock until he has it properly in his hand, and Raihan’s hips can twitch up and into it.

Raihan gurgles. All those smooth lines that he has memorized to a t have said bye-bye and he is left trying to rabbit hump into Piers’ tightly gripping hand.

Piers nods and lets go of him. Raihan sags like his strings have been cut. When he looks over, Piers has shrugged his wide crop top down his arms, showing off his meager tits with the bones of his ribcage clearly visible.

Raihan’s eyes immediately zero in on the little barbell piercings glittering in the light of the telly.

Piers has his tiny tits pierced. He hadn’t known that. Rotom hadn’t thought to fly beneath and get a look at Piers’ chest.

Raihan’s mouth hangs open; maybe his tongue has flopped out as well, he is unsure as he watches Piers smoothly slide down from next to him to the floor in front of him.

Piers moves calm and self-assured. He knows what he can do with his mouth, and he knows that Raihan needs it. He slides Raihan’s cock out of the front of his boxers and hums at the sight of it. There’s a small grin on his face, fingers easily giving him a few pumps to just feel the hard, silky shaft slide between them.

There’s a pause in which Piers’ thumb drags across a particular little spot just beneath Raihan’s frenulum and then he leans in and opens his mouth, tongue out and glittering with yet another piercing right in the middle.

Raihan’s blood is on fire. He feels like he needs to roar. He’s panting like a dog and twitching up into the heat of Piers’ body for the second time in a month, head pulsing so painfully he feels like it is going to split like a ripe melon.

Piers sucks him in hard, cheeks hollowing, eyes heavy lidded and unfocused as he looks up at Raihan. His tongue presses against the underside, the tip dragging hard against his frenulum until he feels like he can’t take it and has to push him away with a hand against his forehead.

He pulls off with a wet pop, then idly rounds that same little spot his thumb had worried earlier.

“I remember that little scar,” he murmurs, eyes steady on Raihan’s face, watching all kinds of emotions play across. “I like return customers.”


	10. Bruce/Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce/Jason – begging; crying; abo; hurt/comfort – Jason is wracked by heat pains after Bruce hadn’t knotted him. He needs it so badly...
> 
> Prequel: B31F11  
> Sequel: B33F9

When Bruce gets back into his lavish bedroom after his shower and realises that someone has managed to sneak past his impenetrable security, his blood runs cold.

His body is taut within the blink of an eye, ready to fight, heart drumming against his ribcage before his head picks up on who it is that is rubbing themselves against the silk sheets on his bed.

He had not thought he would see Jason again this soon. His body warms in an instinctive response to seeing the Omega. Two days after their… encounter, the heat is still raging through Jason’s body; Bruce can see the flush easily.

The young man has somehow managed to get himself out of most of his clothes but is still wearing one sock and his underwear. The rest is strewn haphazardly in a more-or-less straight line from the cracked balcony door to the bed.

Bruce takes a step closer before thinking better of it and keeping his distance for now. Jason’s scent is curling through the air and tickling his nose already.

“Jason?” he asks softly, and the Omega on the bed freezes as if he had forgotten where he was. “What are you doing here?”

Jason is breathing so hard, Bruce can see his back moving with it; harsh in-and-outs as if he had run to Bruce’s mansion and just stumbled his way through the elaborate security. He doesn’t know if he should be concerned over a heating Omega being able to get through like this, or if he should be impressed that Jason had managed this level of functionality despite his current status.

“Jason…”

“Just get over here!” Jason’s voice breaks halfway through, slightly hysterical. He sounds like he is on the verge of tears and nothing has even happened. “Just… just get here and do your fucking _thing_!”

Bruce is spectacularly ill equipped for calming someone. As much as he tries to keep the city clean and the citizens protected, the one-on-one if not forced during a high-society get together is something he neither enjoys nor feels like he does a good job of.

He doesn’t think Jason would take well to him trying out one of his many casual conversation starters.

He lifts his hands placatingly even though Jason isn’t even looking at him and slowly makes his way closer. He is embarrassed over his cock leading the way; the bulge in the front of his towel easy to spot.

“Are you alright?” he asks gently. He can smell the bitter hint of pain threading through the otherwise overpowering heat scent that is coating his tongue and the back of his mouth. “Did something happen?”

“Don’t ask so much!” Jason’s is heaving a huge sob, his fingers digging into the bedding. The thick muscles in his broad back are twitching. His blue underwear is soaked dark with slick already. Bruce’s mouth goes dry, and his head starts to pound.

He has a knee on the mattress before he registers that he has even moved that far. Jason is trembling like a much smaller Omega. He is meaty and big and could demand the space accordingly, but instead he makes himself small, almost curling up into a ball.

Bruce reaches out slowly, but when he curls his fingers around Jason’s ankle, the young Omega cries out hoarse and feral and pulls away. He twists around until he is on his ass and Bruce can finally see his sweaty face.

He is flushed and feverish looking, the front of his little underwear tented by his erection.

“B…” he says it on a soft whine, the hard, stubborn expression on his face melting away, leaving him vulnerable and disoriented like a pup. “It hurts so much…”

Bruce slowly reaches out again. He listens to Jason’s breath hitch as he grips his ankle and pulls him closer by the leg this time.

“I can help you,” he offers, ashamed at how eager he sounds in his own ears, but this eagerness quickly takes a downturn when Jason looks him straight in the eye and whispers: “Please don’t hurt me.”

The ‘again’ hangs unspoken in the air.

Bruce lets go of him like he’s been burned, bile rising at the back of his throat.

He’s hurt him.

“Yes…” he murmurs, fumbling with his towel. “I won’t hurt you this time.”

What else was he supposed to say? Jason has a track record of reacting badly to Bruce’s apologies, so he doesn’t try to, even though it’s right on the tip of his tongue. It horrifies him that he hadn’t even realised he was hurting him.

Jason’s chest is heaving, his eyes big and glassy and younger looking than he really is as he stares up at Bruce who reaches out and drags fingers across the wet bulge of his cock. Across the hip bones it is still somewhat recognizable that the underwear had been sky blue at some point, but his slick and pre-cum have long since darkened it to a wet, needy deepsea blue.

Bruce drags his thumb from the base up to the tip, his whole body on fire when he sees pre-cum bubbling up through the fabric as if he’s massaging the thick juices out of an overripe fruit.

Jason as taken to pressing a palm across his eyes, his mouth open and panting; breaths accentuated by reedy whines.

“Please… please…”

He is whispering it like a mantra as Bruce carefully peels the wet underwear down his thighs. He wants to believe that Jason is begging for it, but eventually he finishes with a hitched little ‘don’t make it hurt’ that has him biting the tip of his tongue hard enough to draw a bit of blood.

Bruce is… devastated to think that he’s hurt an Omega. Hurt _anybody_ in that way. He feels wretched; and when he shuffles between Jason’s muscular, trembling thighs and curls over him, he can’t help but to apologize after all.

“I’m so… damn sorry.”

His eyes feel prickly with tears. Why is it that dealing with Jason always gets him close to bawling?

Jason is whispering something, but he can’t make it out. He has his arms curled around Bruce’s shoulders and is digging his short nails into his skin bruisingly hard.

Bruce carefully nudges his way into him; he is so deep into his heat that there is no preparation needed; no buttering him up. He’s open and ready and so slick that everything engulfs Bruce in a wet, long slide that feels like it is going through his whole body.

Jason is clawing at his back, shuddering, knees clamped so hard around Bruce’s hips that he feels like a stallion that’s forced to push forward.

He keeps chewing on his tongue, hands balled into fists, forcing himself to remain calm and gentle despite the multiple points of hurt all over – and inside – his body.

He rocks and Jason whimpers; he grinds and Jason gasps, wet and broken, his body almost reluctantly relaxing around Bruce. He’s holding on to consciousness by the skin of his teeth, deathly afraid of what’s coming.

Bruce thinks blearily about last time. He’d thought he’d been so gentle. Even let him go without a… knotting…

God… could that be it? Had he made it worse by trying to make it easier on the poor pup? How many more times would he fuck up so spectacularly with Jason?

“Don’t be afraid… I’ll make it better this time… I’m so sorry,” he whispers into his ear, and gently picks up speed.


	11. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – fart kink; old men; humiliation – Jack is nasty and old. What’s new? :)
> 
> Prequel: B31F12

Jack feels like a young man again, making out with Gabriel in slow, self-indulgent kisses, hands slowly wandering and grasping. He can’t even remember the last time he had just let himself enjoy something like this.

It must’ve been years. Decades. He doesn’t want to think about it too much.

Gabriel is feverishly hot against his side. His kisses feel even more needy than Jack’s; mouth so plump and wet and delicious when he sucks at Jack’s tongue and savors it.

They have to pull away eventually. Jack’s head feels light from lack of oxygen.

He stares at Gabriel’s face, cupping his cheek, thumb dragging across a few scars there. He wants this to remain slow and soft, but he can feel how he is getting… needy.

He has waited so long for this… and Jack is not good at being patient.

He _needs_ Gabriel.

They‘re so much older now, but Gabriel is just as easily bullied into it. He makes a few sounds of protest, looking a little worried for some reason, but he‘s swayed by kisses and gentle pinches to his plump nipples.

He’s just as easy now as he’s been as a much younger man. He spreads his legs and frames Jack’s hips with his knees.

Their bulges drag together slowly as Jack pushes down into him, distracting him with kisses. He bears down on Gabriel, and gets light headed from how sturdy he feels beneath him, but Gabriel makes a weird little sound and pushes him almost off.

“What the Hell,” he grunts, squinting at Gabriel in the almost darkness of the room. Gabriel is panting, and when Jack touches his cheek, he feels like he is about to burn up. “You alright? Are you sick?”

He doesn’t want to end this, especially when he can feel Gabriel’s cock nestled against his own, but he’s also not greedy enough to fuck him when he’s coming down with something.

Gabriel, surprisingly enough, doesn’t answer immediately. He puts his arm across his face and just breathes softly for a while. Jack lets him, but not for too long. He really is not good with patience.

“Should we stop?” he asks reluctantly. Gabriel’s face twists in the darkness, and shrugs his shoulders, knees still around Jack’s hips; framing him nicely.

“I, uh… got cramps.”

Jack frowns and slowly sits up.

“You need to take a dump?”

He can see Gabriel’s lips glisten after he’s sucked on them; plump and wet and so, so distracting.

“No,” he whispers, almost unintelligible. It takes a while for Jack to put two and two together. It has been _so long_ since Gabriel had… since Jack made him…

Fuck.

His cock surges in his underwear, the tip starting to wet against the fabric. He doesn’t think Gabriel knows just how hot that one glorious time had made him. How it had been _the_ taboo little fantasy that had kept him going for years and never failed to get him to shoot his load when all other memories and fantasies have lost their allure after just a few weeks.

He moves before he can really think about it, hand going on Gabriel’s belly, palm pressing hard down on his abdomen; and just like that Gabriel can’t help but fart. He hadn’t expected Jack to just go for it like the pervert he is, and there is no way for him to hold back the loud, rumbling sound of the air literally being pushed out of his body.

Gabriel is deathly quiet. Jack can feel the horrified embarrassment radiating off of him. When he suddenly moves, Jack is right there to push him back down.

They are wrestling, their breaths loud and harsh in the room.

Gabriel could just vanish in a puff of smoke, and the edges of his body start to sway like a mirage, but he does not _leave_. He lets Jack roughly push him to his front, arm held behind Gabriel’s back so hard he knows he is close to dislocating his lover’s shoulder.

He hadn’t expected this to be part of their reunion, but Jack is a man of action, and if he needs to force Gabriel into giving it up for him, then he will.

He drags Gabriel’s underwear down roughly. Gabriel curses when it gets caught on his cock and Jack still tries to rip it down.

“Fuck- _Fuck!_ Alright! Don’t castrate me, asshole!” His voice is shaking despite him sounding furious.

“You gonna run again?” Jack asks roughly. He presses his cock against the backside of Gabriel’s thigh, and as if his erection has finally driven it home, all the fight leaves Gabriel’s body. He turns his head into the mattress, pillows long since thrown to the floor during their fight.

“No…” he murmurs. Jack carefully, slowly lets go of Gabriel’s arm. He helps him bring it back forward, gently rubbing at his shoulder to soothe the pain.

Gabriel wordlessly lifts himself up on his knees, presenting Jack with the most gorgeous ass he will ever see in his life.

This, too, is something he would have never forgotten, no matter how old he’d get. Nobody could have an ass like Gabriel Reyes.

Jack fumbles his underwear down, knuckles brushing Gabriel’s erection as it is finally freed from the fabric, then palms Gabriel’s meaty cheeks and pushes them apart. He’s not prepared, of course, but his hole looks delicious and ready to be molested.

Jack leans down, mouth open, tongue dragging shamelessly across the pouty muscle, and Gabriel makes a desperate, shocked sound.

“N-No!”

“No?” Jack rasps. The thought of Gabriel not able to hold it and farting on his tongue is… fuck… fuck it should not make him this stupidly hot. He licks at Gabriel again, tongue rounding the trembling muscle. Gabriel has clenched it so tight in his desperation, Jack is quite frankly amazed.

“No, no, come on,” Gabriel whispers. He sounds surprisingly close to tears.

Jack has mercy on him and kisses his tailbone, then slides further up. He slots his cock between Gabriel’s cheeks, hips slowly flexing to drag the shaft along his crack, mouth smearing hot little kisses against Gabriel’s trembling shoulders.

“Do it,” he whispers. “Do it, Gabe… You’ve been waiting for it, huh? Come on… I know you’ll love it… finally get that pressure out of you…”

Gabriel shakes his head, face pressed into his forearms.

“You’re a sick fuck, Morrison… why hasn’t that changed in the million years we’ve been alive?” he asks softly, voice so… resigned to his fate. He knows that Jack won’t let him get away with this without giving him what he wants.

Jack doesn’t need to beg more. He feels the hot air against his painfully hard dick even before the bubbling sound registers to his ears.

Gabriel is burying his head beneath his arms; he looks like he is trying his damndest to find the next hole that he can just throw himself into, but it also doesn’t keep him from farting on Jack’s cock in thick, hot streams of air that tickle his dick while he humps Gabriel’s crack.

He has no idea what Gabriel has eaten to get that reaction out of him, but he will find out… oh yes.


	12. Raihan/Piers (+Goodra)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Piers/Raihan (+ Goodra) – eggpreg; slime; belly bulge; messy – Goodra is such a good guy. It even gifts Piers with something special.
> 
> Prequel: B30F12  
> Sequel: B33F10

Goodra moves like it is just imitating what it has seen humans do. It’s big silly smile is unwavering as it moves its hips in big motions like an ocean wave that has nothing to do with how it is actually moving its long, slimy tentacle cock inside Piers.

Raihan can’t help but praise it while Piers is just a gurgling little pile on the floor. He sounds like he is getting the air pushed straight out of him by the sheer mass of filling currently bloating his intestines. 

It’s even difficult to tell when Goodra finally comes. It doesn’t make much of a noise or anything of the sorts; its eyes simply narrow slightly in pleasure, and Piers makes a weird half-cry when another thick custard-y mess fills him so much that Raihan is sure it has to hurt.

“F-feels l-like my damn eyes a-are about to pop out o-of my skull.” Piers barely can get a straight sentence out. His breath keeps hitching tongue barely obeying him.

If Raihan is being honest, he also _looks_ like there’s just something massive going on. Like the slow shifting of tectonic plates. Piers’ usually sleepy looking eyes are huge like saucers. He looks a bit shell shocked just by how massive this experience was. Still is.

Beneath his ribcage, his belly is swollen impossibly. Raihan is sure that the slime must have pushed a few organs around just to make space for itself.

Goodra looks _very_ proud of itself.

Its stubby arms are softly petting along Piers’ back and the bony nubs of his spine. It says its name a few times, voice very gentle. Like it is praising Piers for a job well done. Goodra has always been the gentlest of his Pokémon; perfect for first timers – but also kind of not.

Piers is drooling on Raihan’s hardwood floor. It’s not the first time Raihan has seen someone fucked out of their damn mind by Goodra, and he can never help but think that if that had been their first time getting fucked, they would’ve scared off of it for fucking life.

Goodra blows a little bubbly huff, then finally begins to slowly pull back. It leaves Piers looking glistening with slime residue. Raihan immediately shoves himself behind him, staring at that bony little ass. Goodra lets him without so much as a second glance; it is used to Raihan taking its sloppy (so… so sloppy…) seconds.

There’s a plug of lavender goo keeping Piers’ hole filled so nothing drips out. Raihan gently rubs the stretched skin around it with both thumbs. His cock hurts like Hell, but he can never get over the sight of just how much Goodra _wrecks_ assholes.

The plug is firm but still gooey enough to let Raihan push in like it’s a fleshlight. Piers doesn’t make a sound. He probably can’t even feel Raihan’s dick after he’s been stretched to the maximum by Goodra.

Only when Raihan drapes himself across Piers’ back, arms curling around his huge belly, does he suddenly cry out weak and pathetic. His long arms flop around uselessly; maybe trying to push Raihan off, but not managing to even come close to him.

“No, no, no, bloody… bloody _Hell!_ ”

Piers’ voice climbs so high, body doing one weird wriggling motion as he tries to flop away but then realizes that any and all struggles are putting even _more_ pressure on his inflated belly.

“Hey buddy,” Raihan drawls lazily. His cock is swimming inside the hot mess left inside Piers. He can’t feel it touching the walls of his intestines and the sensation makes him feel like he’s floating. His ears are filled with a soft static noise.

He is transcending with Goodra’s warm slime gently, silkily floating around his cock.

“...I’m sorry for this, alright? But I really… really need to do this.”

“...Wha?” Piers asks back, voice crackling. He sounds absolutely come dumb, but Raihan has no idea if he’s even shot his load.

He doesn’t answer. He just squeezes his arms around Piers’ belly.

Piers screams sharply as there is a second of the pressure on his guts sharpening and nothing giving way – and then the syrupy plug Goodra has left pops out and a deluge of body hot thick slime drenches Raihan’s thighs.

If Piers hasn’t come before, he is sure he has to do it now. He is putting gentle but steady pressure on his friend’s belly, and tries not to think how he is squeezing him like a bloody tube of toothpaste.

The first spray of slime dies down, but Raihan can still press on Piers’ belly, so he does. Piers just keeps groaning against the floor. He’s stopped trying to defend himself from Raihan the second the plug shot out of him like the cork on a bottle of champagne.

Raihan rocks into him slowly. By now he is at least feeling his cock being cushioned again by Piers’ hot insides. The sounds it is making, pushing in and pulling out of the slimy mess are sending goosebumps down his spine. Wet and squelching and nasty.

Absolutely perfect.

He moves his arms so his hands are pressed against Piers’ belly now. It’s considerably smaller again, and by the sounds of it Piers can also finally breathe a bit easier now.

“There you go… wasn’t that nice?” Raihan murmurs. It’s a bit slurred; he feels slightly tipsy even though he hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol. His hands keep gently massaging and pressing against Piers’ belly, urging more slime to squeeze its way past his cock.

It is then that his fingers bump into something… hard inside Piers. He pauses, unsure for a moment whether he’s pushed against his… ribcage or something, but knowing full well that there’s no damn way.

He pushes again, searching and… yes… yes there is something. Not as hard as bone, but definitely _firm_ and… and not something that should be inside a human right there in the soft space of his gut.

“Hey… hey uh… Piers? Buddy?” Raihan’s blood is pumping fast through his veins, and his ears feel impossibly hot.

He drapes himself over Piers’ bony back, hips going faster and slapping in a staccato against his ass. Fucking him as excitement spikes once more.

“Hey??” he says again, urging and eager. “Uh I think… uh…” He presses again, digging his fingers right in while Piers whimpers and squirms. He’s unsure whether he doesn’t like the sensation of getting Raihan’s fingers digging into his belly, or his cock digging into his ass.

“I think Goodra’s left you with a little present, bud,” he gasps, face pressing into the mess of hair piled precariously on top of Piers’ head. “Or a uh… a _big_ present, actually.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Piers turns his head to the side. He blinks a few times but he looks blitzed; absolutely wiped out. Barely hanging on to any semblance of coherence.

“He put an egg in you,” Raihan says on a hot gust of air, hips snapping, then stilling, digging in, cock pulsing out his orgasm and adding to the mess while he feels up the slightly squishy object through Piers’ abdominal wall.

Piers doesn’t say anything. Maybe he’s not understood. Maybe he doesn’t believe Raihan.

But the truth is that he can feel it; Goodra’s present to Piers.


	13. Torbjörn/Mercy (+Hana; +Lúcio)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Torbjörn/Mercy (+Hana; +Lúcio) – voyeurism; sweat kink; cunnilingus – Torb is the team bicycle please and thank you.

Lúcio looks over at the screen by chance, heart doing a weird little trip over itself when he sees that Torbjörn’s workspace is no longer vacated.

His arm shoots out to the side, grabbing Hana’s upper arm and shaking her.

“Song! Song, it’s time!”

Hana almost drops her portable console. She glances over at the screen, sees the broad back of a stout man and curses softly under her breath.

“It was time!”

She shuts the console and scoots closer to Lúcio. They lightly bend forward, staring at the screen. Torbjörn is doing something at his workstation. Standing on a box, he is slightly bend over, arms moving only minimally.

“Change the- yeah,” Hana whispers, hushed as if Torbjörn would be able to hear them. Lúcio had been ahead of her, already changing the view to the next hidden camera so they can see him from the side.

Torbjörn has his beard braided in one thick strand to keep it out of the way and is currently working on one of Angela’s wings. The work is delicate, but his thick fingers move very sure.

Hana shifts slightly, exhaling a wheezing little breath. Lúcio nods along.

“Yeah… yeah, I getchu.”

Torbjörn works on the wing for maybe half an hour before it seems to be doing what it should be doing. He gently puts it aside, then turns away from the workbench. Lúcio fumbles to get a new camera angle, the both of them brimming with anticipation.

Watching Torbjörn’s thick sausage fingers move so delicately is good – really good – but watching him do heavy duty stuff and really get _sweaty_ is where it’s at.

“Oh God, I hate to see my baby all beat up, but it’s so _good_ when he starts to work on him,” Hana murmurs. In the corner of her workshop is her MEKA, waiting to be put back into working order after the last skirmish. Lúcio makes a soft little sound of commiseration.

They watch Torbjörn stand there for a moment looking at the MEKA thoughtfully, then shaking his head.

“You probably could have done the repairs yourself, huh?” Lúcio asks softly as they watch Torbjörn taking off his jacket. Beneath, he is wearing just an undershirt, and Hana makes another wheezing sound.

“Yes, but I couldn’t have had _that_ view otherwise.”

“You’re so right,” he whispers.

Torbjörn gets to work, and they become very still and attentive as they watch.

There are cameras all over the shop. They’re quite frankly amazed that Torbjörn hasn’t found any of them yet.

Lúcio can quickly switch from one view to the next, searching the best possible angle to watch Torbjörn’s biceps move as he starts to unscrew a few cover panels to be put to the side for later.

He makes it look like they weigh next to nothing with how he easily lifts them around with so much care, but soon enough his undershirt starts to become dark with sweat. Lúcio squeezes his thighs together, trying to hide how chubby and interested his cock has already become.

Hana doesn’t comment on it; with how close she is sitting, the scent of her slick pussy is easily enveloping them both.

“Shit,” she whispers when Torbjörn has to move a bit more forcefully, and it gets his biceps to jiggle. Lúcio makes a high-pitched little sound as he agrees.

They’re both leaning forward, engrossed in the action. When Torbjörn suddenly turns towards the camera, they both have a moment of abject fear before they see him talking to someone.

A body moves in front of the camera, and Lúcio swiftly clicks over to the next.

It’s Angela – probably there to retrieve her equipment.

The two of them watch as Torbjörn wipes the back of a gloved hand over his sweaty brow, nodding towards her, then gesturing towards the work bench.

The mechanic moves ahead, and Mercy follows in tow. She’s nearly twice Torbjörn’s height, making it easy to see that she is not looking towards the wing beautifully laid out on the surface of the work bench, but down at Torbjörn.

Lúcio clicks to another camera.

While Torbjörn is explaining something about whatever he did, Angela reaches out towards him like she just can’t help herself, and touches his bicep glistening with sweat and smeared with grease like the rest of him.

“Holy shit.. audio, _audio_!” Hana croaks, slapping at Lúcio’s shoulder until he pushes the button. The audio is shitty and full of static, but it is worth it to hear at least a fragment of their conversation.

“-thank you.”

Torbjörn is frowning and turning towards her, shaking his head.

“No need. It’s my duty, and my pleasure.”

Mercy steps closer. Her cheeks are flushed red, making her look like an excited schoolgirl.

Hana and Lúcio know what she will do even before she does it: curling her hand around the back of Torbjörn’s head.

“No,” she says breathily. “ _Really_ thank you…”

She pulls his head forward and practically into her crotch. Hana jerks forward and is on the edge of her seat while Lúcio leans back from the screen. He’s seen it coming but actually _seeing_ it is still throwing him for a loop.

“Ho-ly,” he rasps after the initial shock has waned, and leans in again. Bumping shoulders with Hana he continues: “Mercy’s nasty?!”

Hana doesn’t answer. They watch entranced as the action unfolds.

Angela is just as fucking thirsty for the mechanic as they are, it seems.

The audio cuts out so much that Lúcio turns it off again, so they have no idea what she is saying to make Torbjörn go along with it. He looks almost annoyed; like this isn’t the first time he’s been bullied into accepting some... _gratitude_.

Angela has worn her lab coat into the garage – it functions as a slight protection against the cold floor as she lies on her back, long legs getting folded up by Torbjörn. She’s hobbled at the knees by her own pants as he leans down and presses his wide mouth across her flushed cunt just peeking out between her clenched thighs.

He’s focusing on her clit, using his fingers after dragging off his glove to pump into her.

The motion makes his glistening bicep jiggle again. They can just sit and watch and as Torbjörn services Mercy who looks like she is _thoroughly_ enjoying herself getting ravaged by the sweaty, dirty mechanic.

Everything just… happened so _fast_.

Torbjörn takes it in stride, obviously so very used to the concept of his work not only spanning all mechanical problems on base, but also including eating out his coworkers until they have squirting orgasm that leaves them panting and flushed and out of commission for long enough that he has time to clean his beard of the fluids before there is any more life coming back into Mercy.

Who would have known?

Who would have known???

Lúcio and Hana glance at each other. They’ve been fantasizing for long enough about getting beard burn from Torbjörn that they feel pretty silly now that they’ve seen how easy it could be.

“I want first,” Hana calls out and Lúcio groans but shoves her.

“Alright, but I’m second.”


	14. Reaper/Soldier76

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaper/Soldier76 – trans man Jack; Gabe giving Jack’s packer a BJ – They’re on leave and simply have a Good Time.

They’re both nice and loose, happy to be out of the base for once and to have caught a game of Gabriel’s team. There’s a bit of alcohol in the mix, but the beer is only enough to give them a little buzz for so long before their SEP physique has sweat it all out again and leaves them just loopy and happy on endorphins.

Jack had never really been in the city to watch basketball, and Gabriel has never had his boyfriend to one, so it is a nice win-win scenario that keeps both of them excited and a bit nervous.

At first they only hook fingers between their seats while they watch the action, but Gabriel gets closer and closer to Jack until he has his face stuffed beneath the other soldier’s ear, mouthing at his skin.

Jack just smells so fucking nice. Aftershave and sweat and excitement. He looks nice, too. Gabe had him put on one of his own jerseys and the peek of broad pecs out from the low riding collar is driving him absolutely wild.

Jack is smiling at him when he pulls back, but he can see that he’s not really comfortable with the PDA in the middle of a hall full of screaming fans. Gabriel weaves their fingers together and bumps shoulders, turning towards the game to watch the rest of the first half with him, leg bouncing.

He loves his team, but he loves the _atmosphere_ even more, and for him, _Jack_ is the atmosphere right now. With how fucking good he looks with his quiet authority that has a few heads turning towards him.

People _want_ Jack, and Gabriel loves that even more.

When there’s a lull in the action, Gabriel stands and drags Jack with him. He’s sporting a hard-on, but his shorts are loose and airy enough that nobody should be any the wiser. Jack is complaining behind him but trotts along even so; maybe he has pity on the horny energy Gabriel has to be exuding.

Or maybe he can smell it. Jack can do weird fucking shit if he wants to.

Gabriel finds a toilet and bullies Jack into the stall. He pushes him up against the wall so he can kiss him, crushing their mouths together until it hurts. Jack grunts, fingers fisting in Gabriel’s jersey at height of his shoulders, but instead of pushing him roughly away, he just holds on.

He’s so sweet and obedient; letting Gabriel push his tongue into Jack’s mouth, dragging it rough and without much finesse against the soft insides of his cheeks and the sharp edges of his teeth.

Jack is shifting his hips forward, the firm bulge of his cock pressing against Gabriel’s swollen erection. Heat trickles through Gabriel; down his spine and along his arms, tickling at the very tips of his fingers that he shoves into Jack’s hair to grab it and pull his head around the way he needs it to get deeper and deeper and deeper into him.

Jack is relaxing gradually. Outside they can hear people coming and going, but nobody is paying attention to the two sets of feet visible beneath the stall’s door. Or maybe they, too, have seen how horny Gabe had been for Jack, and they know that he’ll kill anybody that dares to get between them right now.

“Please,” Gabriel whispers when he pulls back a little from Jack’s mouth. Their lips are wet and shiny. His mouth feels impossibly sensitive. His head is filled with a warm buzz. “Let me suck you off.”

Jack blinks slowly. There is a small frown starting between his brows before it smoothes out again and he smiles a bit; indulgent and calm. So much calmer than Gabriel who is needily humping a muscled thigh that had somehow wormed its way between his legs.

“Yeah… yeah, okay,” Jack allows, rubbing one palm across Gabriel’s buzz cut. “Get on your knees, soldier.”

Gabriel goes down like a sack of bricks. His knees hit the ground with a crack, and the pain radiates immediately up his legs, but he’s also presented with Jack’s… everything, so he kind of forgets about it. He grabs Jack’s hips and starts to push the jersey up until he can see the tight muscles of his abdomen, and the smattering of blond hair beneath his belly button.

Jack has pity on him and pulls the jersey up enough that he can stuff it between his teeth, showing off his abs and wide pecs. He reaches down with a hand, cupping Gabriel’s face and dragging his thumb against his cheekbone.

Gabriel looks up at him, drinking in the sight while he hooks his fingers into Jack’s waistband and then carefully drags his pants down.

He whines softly at the sight of his packer. Jack has a few different ones for all sorts of occasions and moods, and this one is definitely Gabriel’s favorite; a firm silicone that he can suck into his mouth without having to worry about anything but giving Jack good head.

It’s like he had been anticipating that today would end in Gabriel being so horny he’d beg him to fuck him.

Gabriel whines and leans forward, eyes still on Jack’s face. He can just about see a smug little grin tugging at the corner of Jack’s mouth before he has to focus on what he is doing.

He teases the tip with his tongue, suckling at the crown and tightening his lips around the shaft. Jack keeps slowly rubbing against his buzz cut, probably watching him with the same indulgent gaze.

If Gabriel were to push, he could drag the packer against Jack’s cock, but he thinks like this it is even better; when the vague pressure keeping Jack just as nice and on edge as Gabriel is right now, kneeling in front of him and with his hands obediently on his thighs.

If Jack wasn’t getting to touch himself, Gabriel would even out the playing fields.

He wasn’t doing this to get off, anyway. Jack’s eyes, whenever he can muster up enough brain cells to look up, are blown dark, his cheeks flushed. He shuffles his feet apart a little bit and starts to rock his hips, fucking against Gabriel’s tongue and slipping deeper into his mouth.

Jack cups Gabriel’s face with both hands and holds him still. A shudder runs down his spine, anticipation curling through him thick and hot. His cock is starting to bubble pre-cum at the tip; he can feel it getting moist and disgusting in his pants. As he opens his mouth and offers himself up as a nice, warm hole for Jack to fuck into, he wonders whether he won’t come after all just from being excited and almost thrumming with happiness.

They got a hotel room for the night; neither of them wanted to get back to base while they are on leave. He’ll beg Jack to fuck him. He’s been so nice to his packer, he’s sure Jack’ll give it to him without much thought.

Gabriel wants to grin at the thought, but it is stupidly difficult with a cock trying to slide into his throat, so he just closes his eyes and tilts his head back obediently, listening to Jack’s heavy breathing and smelling his musky excitement, buried in his crotch as he is.

Good times.


	15. Reaper/Lúcio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lúcio/Reaper – casual AU; slutty Lúcio; exhibitionism, unknowing voyeurism – Lúcio has planned it meticulously and Gabriel is his victim :)
> 
> (sadly ends on a cliffhanger but I had too much fun with this to make it go quick quick)
> 
> Sequel: B33F14

Gabriel had known something was afoot the moment Lúcio had stepped out on the lawn behind the house and worn leisure clothes.

Lúcio liked being comfortable, but he liked the _glamour_ even more, so Gabriel is sure that he would‘ve dressed up a bit even for a BBQ if he didn‘t have something else in mind.

Gabriel doesn‘t comment on it. He keeps sitting on the lawn chair, sipping his cool beer and watches his boy from behind his dark sunglasses.

Lúcio is wearing a nice loose top and some basketball shorts that are frankly ridiculously wide.

Gabriel can‘t recognize them, but he is fairly sure that Lúcio must have nicked them out of his closet somehow. His possessive ass definitely likes the thought; especially since Lúcio looks so goddamn hot in them.

The kid doesn‘t pay attention to him for the longest time, which is more than fine with Gabriel. He is busy being at the edge of the proceedings and fantasizing about all those unattainable scenarios in which he bends his boy over the wooden dinner table and fucks him right in front of their friends‘ noses.

Maybe he could even just tug the wide leg hole to the side to get at the little slit hidden between his plump cheeks… now _that_ was a nice thought. He‘d not even have to fumble with whatever kind of insane knot Lúcio must currently have going on in order to keep that cute little number up on his hips.

The others are none the wiser. They move and talk and laugh like Lúcio _isn‘t_ being a teasing little brat right in their middle.

As if they couldn‘t see how he has donned his get up only to rile Gabriel up and get him horny. As if they couldn‘t _see_ how his nipples peek out from the ridiculously large arm holes of his shirt whenever he moves _just so_.

Gabriel was working himself up into a _mood_ , he could tell… and maybe the others caught up to it as well because nobody really tried to approach him while he sat on his chair and sipped beer after beer while watching his boy getting up to a friendly game of basketball with Hana and Genji.

What a little _brat_.

By the time he finally has the _grace_ to come over to Gabriel, Gabriel has a nice buzz, and the beginnings of an erection going. He‘s focusing on Lúcio‘s face, the bad mood he‘s worked himself up into evaporating when he sees his boy‘s happy-go-lucky grin and has him sitting in his lap.

„Hey babe,“ Lúcio chirps, taking the beer bottle from Gabriel‘s lax grasp and setting it down in the grass by the chair in the same motion that he uses to lean in and peck his lips.

Gabriel can only grunt before Lúcio is already leaning further in and whispers against his ear: „Wanna have fun?“

Gabriel feels cold and heat trickling down his spine, mouth going dry. He _knew_ Lúcio was up to something. But what? Did he want to steal into the house and fuck in the bathroom?

He‘s pretty sure Fareeha would somehow find out and kick their asses.

„You just got to sit still and not alert them, okay?“

What?

Lúcio smiles at him and twists around until he is sitting with his back to Gabriel‘s front. His plump little ass curves perfectly into Gabriel‘s hips, pressing down hard enough on his half-hard dick that his arms scrabble for the arm rests of the lawn chair, holding on for dear life while stars explode in front of his eyes. 

Lúcio wriggles and works. Gabriel has no idea what the _Hell_ he is doing, but he suddenly feels those warm little fingers worming their way expertly into his pants and curling around his cock.

He chokes, one hand loosening its death grip so he can curl his arm around Lúcio‘s middle and jerk him back so he can rasp into his ear: „What the _Hell_ do you think you‘re doing?!“

„Shhh!“ Lúcio glances over his shoulder, looking a curious mix of annoyed and amused. He‘s managed to slip Gabriel‘s cock out of his pants, and the sensation of air hitting his dick right in the backyard of his friends while there are multiple people around waiting for the BBQ to be done, has him shut up immediately.

His heart races. Lúcio lightly stands up. He rucks the leg of his shorts up in the back. They‘re wide enough that Gabriel is reasonably sure there‘s nothing amiss at the front.

Lúcio positions his cock. He can‘t see anything that‘s going on below, but the kid sits down and his dick finds gold.

Gabriel‘s brain explodes; at least that‘s what it feels like. Lúcio‘s not wearing underwear. Lúcio‘s hole is wet and prepared.

He‘s taken Gabriel up to the root and the whole maneuver has not taken more than 30 seconds.

“Hey!”

Gabriel freezes, his belly twisting painfully. His head turns and he stares like a deer caught in the headlights at Fareeha standing next to Jack, hand on his shoulder, looking directly at them.

Gabriel is suave usually, but he’s also rarely sitting with his dick out in the middle of his friend’s yard. Or… not out, per se, but-

Shit. Shit, shit, _shit_!

“You’re gonna get over here when it’s done, right?”

Gabriel blinks behind his dark sunglasses. He has no idea what his face looks like; whether it is suspicious or not; but Lúcio speaks for him.

“Sure thing! Still takes a few minutes, right?”

“About twenty,” Jack says gruffly, eyes on his grill. Lúcio’s insides clench around Gabriel, making him zone out for whatever Lúcio is telling them to placate their interest in their general direction.

Lúcio leans back against Gabriel’s front, gently patting the arm still around his middle.

“You okay?” he asks mildly like he isn’t stuffed to the brim with cock right in the middle of… yeah… fuck, he’s been there already. He can’t get his brain unstuck from the concept of Lúcio managing to fill himself with dick without anybody being any the wiser.

Nobody looks uncomfortable or horrified; they all go after their own activities, grilling or playing ball or just lazing around in the sun, none the wiser that just a few steps beside them, Lúcio is working his inner muscles to try and make Gabriel lose his mind.

He is succeeding. Definitely.

Lúcio lifts his arms and curls them back around Gabriel’s neck, looking for all the world like he’s just enjoying the sun while sitting on his partner’s lap.

Gabriel thought he had a poker face but he’s now pathetically grateful for the sunglasses which… Lúcio had tucked into his breast pocket earlier…

Oh damn the little _schemer_!

Gabriel’s arm tightens around Lúcio’s middle, but the kid doesn’t make a sound of protest. He keeps working his muscles, his breath softly hitching. Close as they are, Gabriel can hear the soft wet squelch of Lúcio’s rim as it works around his dick like a little mouth.

“You have twenty minutes,” Lúcio whispers, jerking him out of the stupor his brain had fallen into.

“...What?”

“You have twenty minutes to come like this,” Lúcio whispers, “And fill me up so I can walk around here with your cum dripping out of me…”

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to center himself as his cock _flexes_ inside Lúcio.

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll get up and leave you hanging with your dick wet,” Lúcio croons, turning his head and grinning at him as best he can.

_Devious._


End file.
